


Right on a Forked Path

by tirsynni



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet Series, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Whumptober 2018, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 07:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17555927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirsynni/pseuds/tirsynni
Summary: Ganondorf only wanted to separate himself from his mothers' dark legacy. Link only wanted his people safe.It was going to be rougher path than than both hoped.





	1. Stabbed

Link didn’t remember finishing the battle, only the matter-of-fact assurance that he did. He didn’t remember getting on Epona, just trusted her to carry him away. Her smooth, rolling steps taking them away from the scent of blood and sulfuric scent of dark magic, the silent battlefield behind them, and his waist bleeding under his hand. Those things he knew.

He didn’t remember being stabbed or who stabbed him. Didn’t remember anything, just riding away. Epona’s trot like the sea under him, blood summer-hot streaming down his side. Solid things when everything else faded in and out.

Link’s head bobbed as Epona trotted...somewhere. He couldn’t lift his head. Everything was heavy and cool expect the blood sliding down his side and soaking his clothes. He was so tired.

The princess… He had been on a quest for the princess. Link couldn’t remember if he had completed it. Was that where Epona was taking them? To Princess Zelda?

Except the ground was no longer green under him. The grass was gone. Link blinked, brown blurring before his eyes. It seemed familiar but he couldn’t remember…

Voices in the distance. Shouting. Link tried to raise his head to see, but everything was still so heavy. Too heavy. He swayed on Epona’s back, feeling like the moon itself pressed down on his shoulders.

Another voice, unfamiliar. Male, deeper and rougher than the others. Link turned his head to look and his body kept moving. Everything spun and the world faded for a blink, even the pain fading.

Then another blink and an unfamiliar face inches from his. Wide, dark eyes. A male Gerudo… He should know him, but Link couldn’t  _ remember _ .

“Who --” the Gerudo began, and then the world faded again.

At least his side no longer hurt.


	2. Bloody Hands

Hands held him down. Unfamiliar voices spoke above him. Link opened his eyes but everything was a blur of red and brown. He  _ hurt _ . Snarling, Link struck out and the voices rose. Pain flared in his side. Automatically, he looked down to stare at his bare, bruised torso. Crimson bloomed along his side, bright and wet and shiny.

The hands above his head were bright red with blood. His blood.

Those hands returned, pinning him down. Link’s world burned: their hands on him, blood burning hot along his side, and his own hands, wet and warm. More fire burned in him, Din’s Fire ready to unleash its power.

“Link! Stop!”

Nabooru. Link exhaled, letting the magic go, and Nabooru’s face appeared above him. She looked oddly indignant. The other hands remained on him, still too hot, but not as threatening. Not with Nabooru there. She huffed at him and patted his cheek, her hand shockingly cool against his skin. 

“Idiot,” she said, voice strangely fond. “Stay still while our healers put you back together.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Your aim remains as true as ever: you managed to kick our king right in the face.”

What? Link grabbed her wrist, keeping her in place. When she grimaced, he realized he smeared his blood all over her arm. 

Rolling her eyes, Nabooru eased his hand back to his side. “You find the strangest situations, Link. Just relax. You’re in good hands.”

Link blinked at her, but the heat and pain was fading. Willing his eyes to stay open a little longer, Link looked around. Three unfamiliar Gerudo and one male Gerudo, holding his nose with both hands.

Ah. The king then.

Satisfied that Epona carried him somewhere safe, Link let his eyes slip close again. The sight of the king’s narrowed eyes and bloodstained hands followed him into the dark.


	3. Insomnia

When Link awoke again, the room was dark and he was alone. His body ached dully but no sharp or disturbing pains. Link’s head rolled, a slow throb in his skull, and he studied the rest of the room. A healer’s room, filled with beds identical to the one he rested on. Doors to his left and right: one dark, the other lit with a soft glow.

No sign of Nabooru. Healers probably in the lit room. No sign of the king he kicked. No sounds but Link’s breathing. Just him in the room.

Link exhaled and assessed himself. Bruised and covered in white gauze and a still drying ointment. Hurt but healing. Safe.

Safe. Link relaxed back on the bed and closed his eyes. Instantly, the bed seemed to sway and shift under him, like it was on water instead of a stone floor. Licking his lips, his tongue feeling swollen over chapped skin, Link opened his eyes again. Nothing but the dull red ceiling above him.

Blood loss, Link guessed. He  _ hated _ blood loss. Even potions could only do so much for it.

Groaning silently, Link let his head loll on his pillow. More vertigo but not as bad with his eyes open. Nausea teased him but remained at bay. The bed seemed to move under him even as the far wall remained steady. Link scowled and focused on the far wall, studying the patterns etched in the stone.

He didn’t recognize the room. One of the rooms he never had reason to explore and Nabooru never took him deep enough to show him. He recognized the sigils from other walls in the Fortress but had no idea where the room was located.

There was also nothing else in the roo to look at. Link closed his eyes again, and vertigo slammed into him like a club to the face. Breathing through the rising nausea, he focused on the flow of air into his body -- only for pain to spike in his side. Hissing, Link opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling again. 

Sleep hovered, soft and clingy like spiderwebs, just out of reach. Closing his eyes, Link forced his breath to remain slow and shallow. Soft and gentle, body relaxed and safe, drifting into sleep…

But the world refused to stop moving and nausea rose in his throat. Dammit.

With a scowl, Link opened his eyes again. The same dull red ceiling, lit by the soft light from the other room. Link squinted. He thought he saw gouges in the stone. They reminded him of knife marks.

He found himself counting them. He reached twenty-two before his eyes grew heavy again, thirty-three before he tried to go to sleep.

Within moments, Link opened his eyes again.

Link’s pulse pounded in his temples as he resumed counting. Thirty-four, thirty-five… He licked his lips, his mouth desert dry. Thirty-six...or had he counted that one already?

“You could have called for help if you couldn’t sleep, Hylian.”

Link swallowed and heard a dry click. The Gerudo standing in the lit doorway looked unimpressed. Arms crossed and a single crimson eyebrow raised, she reminded Link disturbingly of Impa.

“Trust Lady Nabooru to find a Hylian as stubborn as she.” Shaking her head, the Gerudo disappeared through the doorway, only to return moments later with an opaque bottle. She grumbled about stubborn idiots the entire time she helped Link drink the potion.

This time, though, when Link closed his eyes, sleep embraced him.


	4. "No, stop!"

Knowing he was dreaming didn’t help Link at all. He stood in the middle of Kakariko Village and stared at Princess Zelda’s back, an odd feeling of deja vu overwhelming him even though he  _ knew _ he had never seen Zelda at Kakariko Village. The village itself was empty of life. Around them, multiple homes burned.

“Stay back!” Zelda commanded, not turning around. Unsure if she was talking to him or someone else, Link froze. He didn’t  _ see _ any --

The well exploded. Gasping, Link flinched back, hand flying to the hilt of his sword, but Zelda remained still, steady, even as darkness poured from the remains of the well. It writhed like a living thing, It lashed at the sky and the sky went dark, a rumble like thunder shuddering from below and above. 

Then the darkness rushed at Zelda. 

Link jerked forward but in a breath it had her: Zelda cried out as it yanked her into the air, shaking her like a dog with a toy. Link ran forward, but before he could reach her, the darkness threw her aside, no more than a used scrap. Without a sound, without a change in its liquid flow, the darkness turned to Link.

_ No, stop! _ He pulled out his sword but slow, he was too slow. 

With a scream, there was only darkness.

Darkness and then light and Link was sitting up, gasping. His side ached and his hand flew to it, callused fingers catching on bandages. His body called out an assortment of complaints, but everything else was small and easy to ignore. His fingers lingered on the bandage as memory returned: the battle, Epona, Gerudo Fortress. 

A dream but not only a dream. Link knew better than that. 

Link looked around but it was still only him in the room. Unlike during the night, both doorways were lit up. He heard voices but too indistinct to make out identities or conversations. Further inspection showed no fresh blood on the bandage around his torso. 

The dream fresh in his mind, Zelda’s helpless body in the monster’s grasp as clear as Lake Hylia, Link swung his legs off the bed.

Time to go then.


	5. Poisoned

Link left without notifying Nabooru. People tended to yell at him when he did things still wounded, and he had no time for that now. Behind his eyelids, he still saw Princess Zelda’s body tossed like trash. He still heard her scream. No. He needed to leave. He found his clothes and his gear and unthinkingly grabbed a shiny ruby ring left beside his tunic. Dressed and ready, Link went through the door opposite the Healers’.

The Gerudo were better than the castle guards, but even slow and wounded, Link managed to sneak past them. He almost got lost twice before following two gossiping Gerudo to the entrance. He also learned far more about Deilyn’s sexual habits than he ever desired. 

There was no sign of Epona. Not a concern. The sun crawled above the horizon, and Link slipped past sleepy guards and through sunrise’s long shadows to Hyrule Field. There he played Epona’s Song and waited. Within minutes they were gone, Gerudo Fortress forgotten behind them.

His side ached as soon as he left the bed. The ache grew as Link moved through Gerudo Fortress. It shrieked when he pulled himself atop Epona. As he rode, he checked the bandages and saw some bright red dots appearing in the white fabric but no sign of major bleeding. Manageable. Painful, but manageable.

By mid-morning, Link was no longer sure.

The ache grew into a constant throb but remained unworthy of serious consideration. Sweat streamed down his face and dampened his clothes. At first Link blamed the late spring warmth and pain, but the heat burned under his skin. When Link wiped the sweat out of his eyes and his vision remained blurred, Link surrendered and stopped Epona by a stream. 

Even as Link stripped out of his tunic and unwrapped the bandages, he thought he knew what to expect. If that was the case, his quest had just grown infinitely harder and Nabooru would never let him live it down. Yet the wound appeared to be healing well: no sign of pus or disturbing redness or even the more disturbing possibility of dark lines spreading from the gash. Link frowned and poked his side to be sure. One soft whimper later, Link rebandaged the wound. Definitely painful but not infected.

Link splashed streamwater on his face and it felt like ice against his overheated skin. He cupped more in his hands and drank. It scratched all the way down before thumping in his stomach. Gasping, Link fell onto his hands and knees. His insides quivered. His blood burned. He stared at his reflection in the water but it wavered and leaped downstream. All Link saw for sure was his white, white face.

Not an infection. Besides his side, no injury hurt. Possibly an illness but Link doubted it. It came too fast, hit too hard.

Poison.

Link panted and thought of the Gerudo with the opaque bottle. The unseen potion he drank, thoughtlessly and carelessly.

His stomach roiled, his insides twisting like they sought to escape the flames burning him from within. Leaning over, Link threw up.


	6. Betrayed

Ganondorf had heard tales of the Hylian “Link” from Nabooru, as well as tales of a green-clad warrior throughout the lands. When he finally met him face-to-face (the phrase did not specify that one face was conscious and the other was not), his first thought was that he expected someone, well, taller. Broader.  _ Bigger _ .

Then the little shit kicked him in the face. Those skinny Hylian legs kicked like a  _ mule _ .

Magic of a sort also dwelled in that small body. What sort Ganondorf did not know, but he felt it welling inside Link before Nabooru helped calm Link. From there, the Healers were able to work their own magic. In the morning, they advised, he would be available for questioning, but not a moment before. Ganondorf could overrule anyone, including Healers, but there was no need. Morning was not that far off.

So of course morning found an empty bed with Kina holding a blade to Ashana’s throat.

Of course.

Instead of looking cowed or humbled, Ashana greeted Ganondorf and Nabooru with a defiant glare. Ganondorf had the feeling her head would be high even if Kina’s blade didn’t rest against it. Three other Healers stood watch, arms crossed and faces grim. Ganondorf strode forward, throat and chest and gut aching like he had swallowed a cannonball. Ashana’s eyes seemed all too familiar, proud and furious and shining with a mad light he couldn’t forgive himself for not noticing before.

“What is this?” he heard himself ask. Nabooru stood at his shoulder, rage radiating from her in hot waves.

Kina didn’t look up. “A traitor, my king. We found evidence that she poisoned our patient during the night.”

In his peripheral vision, Ganondorf saw Nabooru glance toward the empty bed. “Where is Link now?”

“Unknown. It appears he left voluntarily.”

Nabooru huffed and grumbled “ _ Of course he did _ ” under her breath. She shook her head. “We need to find him. What poison was used?”

Ashana’s mouth pressed into a firm line, eyes flashing. Kina answered instead. “We don’t know. She threw the bottle into the fire when she realized she was caught.”

Of  _ course _ she did. Ganondorf looked away from Ashana, her face and gaze already burned into his mind. So similar to twenty years ago. A problem he thought solved awakening again, chilling him deeper than the desert sun could ever warm. It was possible that she was the only traitor, but he doubted it.

“Nil,” he called. The guard in the corridor snapped to attention. “Find Kali. I want a full investigation.” He nodded at Ashana, who only glared back. “Tell Kali to start with her. Use whatever methods are necessary.”

Then, whenever knowledge she held was uncovered, they would execute her just like they had Ganondorf’s mothers twenty years ago. Ganondorf’s bones ached.

None of that showed on his face as he turned to Nabooru. “Come. We have a Hylian to find.”

**Author's Note:**

> More Ganlink and fic info can be found on my [tumblr](http://tirsynni.tumblr.com/). :)


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